


The Measure of a Dwarf

by HiddenDirector



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies)
Genre: Drinking, Gen, Implied Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-21
Updated: 2014-09-21
Packaged: 2018-02-18 05:52:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2337557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HiddenDirector/pseuds/HiddenDirector
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bilbo makes an inquiry about Dwarven beards, which leads to some rather odd behavior out of Kili. The explanation for such may seem strange to us, but it's a matter of pride for his people. It seems a pep-talk from their resident burglar is at hand.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Measure of a Dwarf

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own The Hobbit or any of the other Tolkien works. Those belong to the Tolkien family, Warner Bros, and New Line Cinema. Please don’t sue me.
> 
> Note: This takes place directly after the end of An Unexpected Journey. I figure after all the excitement, they’d probably want to take a short breather. You know, after they got off the big-ass cliff the Eagles so kindly left them on top of. I’d like to also promote The Hobbit: An Unexpected Journey Visual Companion by Jude Fisher, which was of huge help to me during the writing of this fanfic.

There was a period of much needed rest before The Company continued their trek towards their long lost home and much longed for treasure. It wasn’t a long rest, but the fifteen members of the pack of Dwarves, Hobbit, and Wizard appreciated a moment of calm. After all, after escaping both Goblins and Orcs, they’d had a full and tiring last few days behind them.  
“Can I ask a question?” The relative silence, filled only with side-conversations between the various sub-families, was suddenly broken by Bilbo. The Hobbit sat next to Gandalf, silently watching the others as he puffed on his pipeweed.  
“I do not see why not,” Dori answered. “What would you like to inquire?”  
“Well…” the Hobbit hesitated a moment.  
After a few seconds, Thorin demanded, “Well?”  
Bilbo jumped, then looked embarrassed. “It’s about your beards.”  
The dwarves looked at each other, then back at him. “What about our beards, lad?” Balin asked, stroking his own proudly.  
“Hobbits don’t grow beards, you know. I’ve seen a few hunters who wandered too close to the Shire who have them, and of course Gandalf and Radagast have them as well, but they’re Men and theirs just don’t seem so… elaborate.”  
“Yes, and?” Dwalin asked impatiently.  
“I suppose I just want to know, to settle a bit of curiosity, why Dwarven beards have so much work put into them.”  
“Well, there are really two answers to that,” Dori explained. “There’s why we started doing so, and why we continue.”  
“I don’t want to impose, but I would actually be very interested in both,” Bilbo requested.  
“We first started back when Man and Dwarf first started trading,” Bofur started, cutting over at least three others who had tried to begin first. “See, Men have the same problem with Dwarves that we have with them. To them, we all look the same.”  
“Now, for the longest time,” Dori interjected before Bofur could over-embellish the story to offensive extents, “this caused many problems between the Men and the Dwarves they wished to trade with.”  
“We don’t much like being bunched all together like apples in a barrel,” Gloin growled.  
“However, it came to be that we noticed the most distinctive feature Men would use to try and tell us apart is our beards,” Dori continued. “They made note of the length and color, but it could only help so much. After all, many Dwarves had beards that were very similar to each other, being as we had no problem telling ourselves apart. In order for the Men to do so as well without offending us, the merchants Dwarves that dealt with them began braiding or trimming their beards in unique ways.”  
“Not always just trimming or braiding, either,” Balin pointed out, still stroking his carefully curved beard.  
“And not just beards,” Dori nodded up to his finely woven locks.  
“Or hair,” Nori pointed to his eyebrows.  
“Honestly, you don’t even need a beard itself,” Fili finally cut in, tweaking his braided mustache with a wink. Next to him his brother rolled his eyes but remained uncharacteristically silent.  
“The point is, once Dwarves started immortalizing themselves through their facial hair, it became a lot easier for the common folk to tell them apart,” Gandalf finally interrupted before the party could start into a contest of whose beard was the most magnificent piece of art.  
“Yes, yes,” Dori nodded, looking disappointed that they couldn’t compete. However, as a gentleman he understood that answering the questions of their companion was only polite and continued as he was saying. “At any rate, Dwarves were quick to discover and adapt to the fact that becoming creative with their own appearance was a good way to make an impression upon others. After all, if you wanted someone to buy your product, you wanted them to remember you over anyone else who sold the same. It started with simple braids and trims of the beard, but as Balin says it extended to much more.”  
“Us Dwarves keep our unique looks for much the same reason now,” Ori put in, glad he could have his own input in the conversation. “But since it’s out of habit, we don’t really think about the Men anymore. It’s more of a way to express our own individuality now.” He flattened his chopped up hair on his head in embarrassment. “Well, most of us do our own style. My mother cuts mine. She’s going to be furious when I get back with a mop of hair.”  
“It’ll have nothing to do with the fact that we snuck you out of your home under her nose?” Nori teased.  
“Oh, right. That, too,” the youngest brother said quietly.  
“Point is, each of our looks are all our own,” Bofur continued. “My mustache defines me in ways anyone outside of the Dwarven race can’t fathom. And Bomfur is more famous for his braided hoop than his impressive eating habits. And… well, Bifur is more recognized by the large piece of metal stuck in his skull.”  
“I put more care into my beard than my brother,” Balin pointed out. “Though neither of us put as much work into it as the younger Dwarves, I at least like to make sure it’s got a nice curve to it, courtesy of a family secret. Dwalin, though, considers anything more than a few haphazard braids to keep it from getting in the way a waste of time. However, he never passes an opportunity to mark himself for another deed in battle.”  
“I prefer a more traditional style,” Gloin stroked his beard. “I like keeping with the old ways, before we depended on Men to keep us from falling to the wind. I want nothing more than for my son to keep to the same. The way Oin braids his mustache, in turn, was inherited from our own father.”  
“I like to keep mine in perfect check,” Dori said, tweaking his long, silver beard case. “It’s practical, makes sure it doesn’t get in the way, and in my opinion looks more refined.”  
“What about you?” Bilbo asked Nori of his… unique style.  
“It throws off my enemies,” Nori winked. “If you saw someone that looked like me coming at you, you’d pause as well, wouldn’t you?”  
“I have the uncommon circumstances that my mustache has come in at an irregular growth to my beard,” Fili grinned, flicking his mustache braid. “My beard does grow, but not as quick. In order to keep it from getting uneven I do trim both a bit.”  
“And Thorin?” the Hobbit inquired, glancing at the leader of their Company.  
The Dwarf sighed, eyes travelling to the sky. “This talk of beards is tiring. Our beards are like they are because it’s how we grow and shape them. I keep mine trimmed very short because it keeps it out of the way in battle.”  
“Oh. Is that why Kili doesn’t have a beard?”  
Fili cringed at the words. A few members of the Company looked at each other, and then suddenly became very interested in their former conversations again. The Dwarf in question made a growling sound and stood up, storming off without a word. His brother seemed to make to go after him, then deemed it wiser to let him cool off.  
“What? Was it something I said?” the baffled Hobbit asked, looking confused.  
“Lad, Kili doesn’t have a beard because he simply hasn’t grown one yet,” Dori explained in a low voice, as if to make sure the young Dwarf wouldn’t hear that they were talking about him.  
“Is that all?” Bilbo asked, not looking any less concerned.  
“It’s a big deal to most of us Dwarves,” Bofur said. “To not have a beard, not even a mustache, by the time you’re Kili’s age…. I mean, even Ori’s grown something. It’s not much, but it’s more than Kili has, and he’s even younger.”  
“But he has something. I mean, I don’t know what it’s properly called, but it’s there.”  
“That’s not but stubble,” Dori shook his head. “All Dwarves have at least a bit of that by the time they’re half his age. Many Dwarf women don’t grow more than it.”  
“Oh,” Bilbo suddenly had a dawning of realization. “So you’re saying that by not having more than ‘stubble’ he feels as if he’s no better than a woman or child.”  
“Exactly,” Bofur pointed at him.  
“Of course, most of us know that’s ridiculous,” the elder Dwarf said quickly at the gaze of Fili, who looked none-too-happy that they were speaking of his brother while he wasn’t around to defend himself.  
“Of course it is,” the elder of the young brothers snapped. “Kili is worth more than ten Dwarves twice his age, in battle and out.”  
“We know that, lad,” Dori held up a hand in peace. “However, your brother does not.”  
“The measure of a Dwarf isn’t in the length of his beard,” Thorin put in. “It’s in the strength of his conviction.”  
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset him,” Bilbo said, ashamed.  
“You couldn’t have known,” Bofur shrugged. “Some are more sensitive about their looks than others.”  
“Don’t call my brother sensitive!” Fili snapped, throwing a nearby piece of wood at the other Dwarf.  
“I’m not saying he’s feminine or anything!” the be-hatted Dwarf simply dug himself deeper, as he usually did. “I’m just saying he’s a bit too focused on his looks!”  
“Keep talking, I dare you!” Fili stood up.  
Bilbo ducked out while they argued, catching the eye of their Company leader. Thorin seemed to gauge what he was up to. When he determined whether or not it was a good idea he finally nodded, seeming to trust the Hobbit with the task of calming their archer.

()()()()()

Kili felt he should have been embarrassed that he was sulking, but he couldn’t help it. There weren’t a lot of things that upset him, but his lack of proper facial hair was definitely a contender in that area. After all, he was only five years younger than his brother, and yet he didn’t even show signs of the impressive mustache Fili managed to accumulate. He ran a hand over his stubble and made a disgusted sound. It wouldn’t be so bad if he hadn’t been ridiculed for it in the past. Very rarely by Dwarves, though it had happened at least twice. Mostly by Men, who didn’t know any better. They simply weren’t used to seeing a Dwarf without a proper beard. The worst case was in a tavern back in the Blue Mountains.  
There weren’t many Men in the Blue Mountains. Most simply were passing through. Travelers and scholars, or hunters, who wished to see the vast, impressive lands of the Dwarves. However, some did stay if they so chose. If it were the case, it meant that they had to abide by the laws of the Dwarves. There was a small settlement of Men in the south by the river. Fili and Kili went there often to find work as hunters, fair training and good gold for young Dwarves, especially one like Kili who favored a bow over axe or sword. Their uncle didn’t object to their visits to the human town, but did always warn them not to make trouble. After all, the Men there traded goods with the Dwarves constantly and they enjoyed a good relationship with them.  
However, it wasn’t always easy when the brothers decided to relax after a day’s work with the Men there. They didn’t mind the company of Men, who were often as hardy and good-humored as themselves, and found they made good drinking companions. Until, at least, it became very apparent that some Men simply couldn’t hold either their liquor or their tongues.

((FLASHBACK))

“So she tells me, she says, ‘If you don’t go out there and skin that pig I’ll knock you silly.’ Well, you know me; I don’t take that from no one, not even my own woman. So I told her, ‘I’ll skin that pig when I’m damned well ready, and if you don’t like it then you’re welcome to try knocking me.’”  
“What did she do?”  
“I don’t remember. I woke up the next day and a half later with a splitting headache.”  
Fili and Kili burst out laughing with the Men at the table. It was a good day, they had brought in two fresh kills for the butcher who was grateful enough to give them a tip, and they settled down to relax in the tavern with some regulars they’d drank with before. Ales in their hands and food in the stomachs, along with good company, made for an excellent ending to a day.  
“You’re lucky she’s not a Dwarf woman,” Fili said, leaning in. “Forget knock you silly, they’ll make sure you’re not up for three days, and you’ll be lucky if you can feel your toes.”  
They all laughed again, toasting their mugs and drinking deep. Kili looked into his own mug and made a face. “I’m out.”  
“So order another one,” Fili rolled his eyes. He looked at the Men at the table with a long-suffering sigh. “Little brothers. They’d forget to breathe if you didn’t tell them to.”  
“So true,” one Man grinned. “I’d know, I am a little brother.”  
“Hail the company of our peers!” Kili laughed, clicking his empty cup with the Man’s. “You’re absolutely right, dear brother.” He turned around and waved to the tavern keeper. “Another ale, keep! Actually, make those ales all around for me and my friends!”  
“Aye!” the Men and Fili raised their mugs and began to empty them before the next generously offered drinks could arrive.  
“Aren’t you a little young to be drinking?” a Man at a table next to theirs asked. His face was red with drink, and his buddies obviously had a few too many as well. They all snickered.  
“For your information…” Kili began, turning to them annoyed.  
Fili grabbed his shoulder. “It’s not worth it, they’re just being idiots,” he muttered. “Ignore them.”  
“Aye, don’t let them ruin our evening because they think they’re funny,” one of the Men at their table agreed.  
“I don’t even get where they’re coming from,” another Man pointed out.  
“I think you have to be three sheets to the wind to understand their reasoning,” the last of them said.  
Kili grinned, relaxing. They were right; he couldn’t let something like that get to him. “So, did you even figure out what your wife hit you with?”  
“Nope, but I think it was the rolling pin.”  
“How do you figure that?”  
“It’s what was in her hand when we were arguing.”  
“Well, that’s a fair bit of logic, right there.”  
While they all laughed again, the barkeep arrived with five ales. “Alright, ales all around for the young hunters and their friends,” he announced.  
“I thought you had to be old enough to shave to get a drink in this place!” one of the drunk Men at the other table called.  
“Yeah, I’ve never seen a Dwarf without a beard before!” one of his buddies joined in. “Did it fall off your face?”  
“Maybe it’s on the floor around here somewhere. Watch your steps!”  
Kili growled and stood up, but Fili caught his shoulder again, pushing him back down.  
“Enough, gentlemen!” the barkeep snapped. “They’re paying customers, I’d thank you not to drive them away! Now, go back to your drinks and leave them alone before I kick you out!”  
“Maybe you should have kicked them out two ales ago,” Kili hissed at him.  
“Now, Master Dwarf, I’m not your enemy,” the barkeep warned. “But I’ll thank you to not cause trouble. I’ll conduct my business how I see fit.” When the younger Dwarf simply grunted, he took that as an understanding and left.  
“Look, I should be getting home,” the Man who spoke of his wife conceded, the now tense atmosphere sobering him up a bit. “My wife will be angry if I don’t return soon. And you heard what happened the last time she got angry.” The laughter was more forced this time, and he stood from his seat. “Night, gentlemen.”  
“Night,” the general reply came as he took one last drink from his new ale and left it there for whoever wanted it.  
“Well, nothing like a bunch of drunk idiots to kill the mood,” one of the remaining Men muttered. As if realizing the irony of the statement, he pushed his own ale away.  
“Let’s give them a bit, they have to leave eventually,” Fili reasoned.  
But a while more passed, and the men at the other table didn’t move, simply sitting there and talking low among themselves, occasionally looking over and snickering.  
Kili finally couldn’t take it anymore. He knew he should just ignore them as his brother suggested, but he couldn’t help but turn to the drunken Men and ask, “What is so interested about me that you must continue to make me the subject of your ridicule?”  
“Actually, we just decided to let up,” one of the Men said.  
Kili raised an eyebrow. “Did you, now?”  
“Oh, yes,” he nodded. “We realize that we’ve been rather hard on you, and it’s really unfair. We shouldn’t expect you to live up to our expectations.”  
Fili looked impressed. “See? They’re not so bad. They just needed some time to think about what they’ve been saying.”  
“Yeah, we’re very sorry,” one of the other Men added.  
“After all,” the third one couldn’t help but snicker while he said it. “That was no way to treat a lady.”  
The three burst out laughing. Fili didn’t even try to catch Kili as he flew out of his seat in a rage this time.  
By the time Kili was dragged out of the bar, struggling to continue his work, the three drunken Men had several bruises, cuts, and broken bones. Their table and two of their chairs were broken, which Fili made sure to pay for along with their drinks, and there was ale and blood all over the floor.

()()()

Thorin paced back and forth in the front hall of their Blue Mountain home. The scene was extremely reminiscent of when they were younger and he would reprimand them for sneaking into the weapon stores and stealing swords. Now, however, Kili was in far bigger trouble. He’d vitally injured three Men and damaged the tavern.  
“I am… there are no words to express how disappointed I am in you two,” their uncle finally said. “You’re lucky those Men regularly disturbed patrons in that tavern. The barkeep decided not to have you arrested for the mess you made and I think the three you attacked are now too afraid of you to have it done either.”  
“Uncle, I…”  
“I told you not to cause trouble in that town!” Thorin cut Kili off. “It was a simple order! All you had to do was commit no crime, and that includes assaulting the residents!”  
“They would not stop insulting him!” Fili tried this time.  
“You are not children! The answer to a disrespectful tongue is not to attack without thinking!” The would-be king took a calming breath. “I have half a mind to forbid either of you from ever going near that village again. Not even to hunt.”  
“Both of us?” the younger brother sounded distressed. He looked to his elder then back at his uncle. “Uncle, it was I who faulted. Fili did nothing-”  
“Precisely. He could have tried to stop you at any time, yet he did nothing. That leaves him just as much at fault as you.”  
“That’s not fair!”  
“No, he’s right,” Fili cut in. “I made the decision not to hold you back, not when you attacked nor while you were hitting them with tavern chairs. I’m your brother; it’s my job to make sure you don’t get into trouble.”  
“But…” Kili looked from Fili to Thorin, looking for something to object to. He knew they were right, though. So he deflated, looking at the ground. “Yes, uncle…”  
Thorin looked from one to the other, seeming to marvel at the sacrifices each was willing to make for the other. Kili was willing to take full responsibility to allow his brother to continue visiting the same village Fili was giving up the rights to so his brother wouldn’t be left alone in his punishment. He sighed. These boys were making him soft. “Very well, I suppose since this is the only time you’ve made trouble it would be unfair to forbid you completely. You are thus only forbidden to go there for six months, one month each for each of the men Kili so foolishly injured. And I’ll not have you simply stay around here and do nothing, so you will be helping me at the forge.”  
“Yes, uncle,” Kili couldn’t hide his relief.  
“Thank you, it won’t happen again, we promise,” Fili added.  
“I know it won’t,” Thorin said sternly. “Now, what could they have possibly been mocking that caused all of this?”  
The dark-haired brother looked embarrassed. His blond brother took pity, and simply replied, “I don’t think it would be wise to talk about it.”  
Their uncle raised an eyebrow, but didn’t push the issue.

((END FLASHBACK))

Kili sighed, picking up a stone and throwing it in frustration into the brush outside of the cave they were staying in. It wasn’t fair.  
“That seems hardly sporting.” Kili looked behind him, seeing Bilbo standing there a bit awkwardly. “After all, I don’t see what that bush could possibly have done to you.” It was an honest attempt at a tension breaking joke, if a failed one. The Hobbit walked over, sitting next to the sulking prince. There was an awkward silence between them for a while as neither seemed to know what to say to the other. Finally, Bilbo settled on, “A cold night to be out here all alone.”  
Kili shrugged, picking up another rock and tossing it a couple of times into the air. “Decided we should have a guard. Never know what could be out there.” The excuse was lame, even to him. But Dwarven pride kept him from admitting his insecurity.  
“That doesn’t seem dangerous to you? Being out here all alone?”  
“I’m not a child,” Kili snapped. He then cringed, running a hand over his face in embarrassment. “I’m sorry, that was uncalled for,” he muttered.  
Bilbo watched him a moment, gauging how careful his next words should be. “It really bothers you that much, doesn’t it?” he finally gave in. “Not having a beard, I mean.”  
“What kind of Dwarf doesn’t have a beard?” the Dwarven archer finally admitted, throwing the stone further than the last. “A beard is a sign of honor, of wisdom and accomplishment! How can I call myself a proper Dwarf if I can’t even grow one?”  
Bilbo nodded, looking around for a moment before lowering his voice. “If you can keep a secret, I know how you feel,” he muttered. Kili snorted in disbelief. “No, really, I do! See, when I was younger I didn’t have hairy feet.”  
Kili’s mouth hung open in disbelief for a moment. He couldn’t seem to think of any intelligent response to that confession. Finally, he managed, “Hairy feet?” He looked down at Bilbo’s large feet and the coat of fuzzy hair covering them. He couldn’t tell if this was a terrible joke or not.  
“It’s true!” the Hobbit continued. “Most Hobbits are born with a nice layer of hair on their feet.” He lifted a foot and crossed it over his thigh proudly. “But me? I was born with not a single hair on them. For the longest time, at least twenty years, my mother had to keep assuring me that a Hobbit doesn’t have to have hairy feet to measure up to the rest of his kin. I didn’t believe her of course, thanks to the other children. They’d call me terrible names, like ‘Bilbo the Bald Foot’.”  
Kili could only nod. This story seemed so absurd to him that he found he couldn’t stop it if he wanted to. He simply couldn’t believe that someone was comparing hair on their feet to a beard. It should have been insulting. But he could tell that Bilbo was being completely earnest with him. Somehow, though he couldn’t see why, foot hair was the Hobbit equivalent of a Dwarven beard.  
“Now, obviously my hair came in eventually. And you know what the kicker, no pun intended, was? My foot hair came in twice as thick as any of my so-called friends’. I can tell you that they never made fun of my feet again. But the funny thing is that by then I didn’t really care anymore what they thought of my feet. I had started working on proving I was just as much of a Hobbit as any of them, no matter the amount of hair on my feet. And whether or not they would agree, I was rather proud of myself.”  
The Dwarf nodded once more before realizing the story was over. “So, you’re saying… what? I’m sorry, but it’s very hard for me to understand what you’re talking about when the subject seems to be how hairy your feet are.”  
Bilbo sighed. “The point I’m trying to make is that you shouldn’t worry so much about whether or not you have hair on your face. You should instead focus on your actions. There are twelve Dwarves in there who don’t care how much of a beard you’ve grown, and instead how steady your bow and your courage are. I think you’ve proven quite well that you have both, and we haven’t even made it to Erebor yet.”  
Kili looked at the ground, thinking that over. It was true, the fact that he didn’t have but stubble had never really come up with the others. He always thought it was because they were just trying to be polite, but maybe Bilbo was right. Maybe it didn’t matter to them whether or not he had one. It had never really occurred to him before, as stubborn as he was in his belief that they should care. However…  
“But you said eventually your foot hair grew in, thicker than any other, right?”  
“Well, yes, but…”  
“So… do you think someday when my beard finally comes in I’ll have one that puts the others to shame?”  
The Hobbit burglar opened his mouth, about to point out that he was missing the point of his carefully thought out lesson. However, he saw a twinkle in Kili’s eye that made him instead smile at the youthful playfulness he displayed. “Well, I suppose that’s completely possible. No, I’m quite sure of it, actually. Someday you’ll grow a great beard.”  
“A mighty beard!”  
“A beard that will go down in history!”  
The two of them laughed, Kili nudging Bilbo with an elbow. It was strange, having his depression lifted by talk of Hobbits and hairy feet. There was definitely something special about the Hobbit, though he by now didn’t think it was his burglaring skills.  
“Maybe it doesn’t matter,” Kili finally admitted, resting an elbow on his knee and his chin on his palm. His fingers rubbed his stubble and for once he didn’t feel as if it made him less of a Dwarf. “It would still be nice, though. To stand in Erebor with the most impressive beard known to Dwarven-kind.”  
“I’m sure it will happen one day,” Bilbo grinned. “Maybe not the beard part, but I swear that I’ll help you stand in Erebor.”  
“Thank you, Bilbo Baggins,” Kili stood up, holding out a hand.  
Bilbo nodded, taking the hand and standing up. “No problem whatsoever. Now, let us go back inside. It really is very cold out here, I don’t think even a beast would find it wise to hunt thirteen rowdy Dwarves stuffed in a cave.”  
“Agreed,” Kili laughed, slapping him on the back. “And besides,” he added as they began walking back into the cave, “I do believe there is a story about a Hobbit and his formerly bald feet that the others need to hear.”  
“You promised you’d keep it a secret!”  
“I promised no such thing, you simply assumed I would!”  
“Kili, don’t you dare…”  
“Hey, Bilbo has a story he’d like to share with all of us!”  
“Kili!”

\--End--


End file.
